The Currency of Exchange
by hermithole
Summary: KakaSaku In which Kakashi falls sick, has Sakura tend to his every need, and discovers that maybe the price of exchange isn't so bad after all.


**A/N:**

I wrote this way back in February 2008, and am only posting it now because I'm lazy, and have been so for the past one year and seven months. What was supposed to be a short little drabble turned out far longer than I expected, and I'm glad to be able to - finally! - get it off my back.

Many months back this was supposed to be dedicated to _beautyinsleep _who wanted a KakaSaku fic, who deserves much applause for her awesomeness... whom I have also not seen in a very long time. I hope you come back to fandom, girl.

Much love to A for reading through. Now, onward to the fic — don't let me stop you.

* * *

**The Currency of Exchange**

_by hermithole _

_

* * *

_

When Kakashi woke up that morning, he realised he had a fever. Ninjas don't come down with fever often and when they did it hardly posed a problem, but it seemed like morning sniffles were particularly malicious, because by the time Kakashi was about to leave the number of masks by his bedside had steadily swelled to a small army.

Tsunade had taken one look at him and said, "Go home, Hatake."

"Oh doe Hogage-saba—" he had replied. "I would fordee dee'd ondy a gobben gold."

"A gobben gold," Tsunade had agreed. "Now get the hell out of here before you pass it to me."

"Doe, Hogage-daba—" he had been adamant. "I am gondiden di'gold weeld dud'dyde by de dime we reed Dudagagure."

"Gon boo ga ga," Tsunade had snapped, gathering the papers and tapping it on the desk. "The hell you are talking about. You are in no state of mind to represent Konoha. Go home. Rest. Sleep on it. We will discuss this another time."

"Bud Hogage-daba—"

"_Do I make myself clear,_" Tsunade had stared at him. "We will find you a replacement. Do you want me to send ANBU after you? Get out."

Kakashi had wanted to protest more – this mission is of _utmost importance, _Hokage-sama – before that was also drowned out by a loud quaking sneeze and the sight of a fifteen-inch table lamp flying for his head.

* * *

When Kakashi woke up in the afternoon, he found that the masks next to his bedside had been replaced with a tall glass of water.

"Where di my mark?" he asked, looking around.

"Your masks?" Sakura said from beside him, and Kakashi realised he was glad to see her. "Do you mean the one next to your ear or the one on your face?"

"Bobe," his eye creased into a happy smile.

"I threw them away."

"…wha?"

"I _threw _them _away_," she emphasized, and then promptly exploded. "Don't look at me that way, Kakashi! They were so gross! There was snot _all over_! You can jolly well buy new ones once you recover."

"Dew gooda war dem dough…"

"Wha—no!" she gave him an incredulous stare. "It is important for a medic to ensure that her patient's hygiene is kept to the best of conditions. And that," she paused for good measure, "will mean throwing away things that look like last year's leftover."

"Dar yeard debober?" Kakashi was hurt. Hey, some of the masks were won at last year's summer festival! One did not hit as many coconuts as he did and still walk away with nothing!

"Ehh," he began, "dum of doe were won add dar yeard—"

"Whatever you say," Sakura hmphed and made a move to stand. "Now if you will excuse me, I think it's time to make you some noodles."

* * *

The second time he awoke it was to the rustle of Sakura's stirring.

"Hey," she whispered, and her voice sounded close to his ear. "Time to take your meds."

Kakashi cracked open an eye before he instantly felt the ache in both cheekbones. What was with this stupid cold? He had thought it'd be over by the time he wake up, but now his nostrils were sticky and sore, his tongue heavy and dry, and his nostrils felt like they had gathered a small colony of ants.

He imagined his mucus doing the victory dance _(and sir, we have now taken control of his NOSSSSSTRILS!)_ but it wasn't an altogether pleasant thought.

"Here, don't strain yourself," Sakura leaned forward to guide him as he struggled to sit up. "Your fever is pretty bad." teasingly, as an afterthought, "old man."

"Ah," Kakashi croaked out indignantly. "—water?"

"Not without your meds," Sakura handed him the glass, along with several pink and white pills. "Antibiotics, and sinus pills. Helps to clear the blockade."

"I see," he downed the glass in one gulp. The water ran down his throat and cooled his senses. Frankly, the smile on Sakura's face wasn't too bad either.

"Shishou told me you gave her some trouble," she said, pouring him another glass, "because you didn't want to be taken off the mission."

"Ah, that," he shrugged, "is a small matter."

"Shishou also told me," Sakura continued nonchalantly, and set the kettle onto the table, "that one of her table lamps was destroyed."

He was walking on shaky grounds. He knew it.

"Ah, that," he tapped his chin, "is probably what I ducked from."

"_Hatake Kakashi_!" Sakura shouted into his face, under the impression that they were sitting several acres apart. "To go to Sunagakure _the Village of the Bloody Sun _while running a fever of more than _three hundred degrees_ is to put yourself under the risk of severe dehydration. Are you looking for death? _What is wrong with you?_ I swear that you do this to annoy me."

"I'm sorry…"

"Jeezus," Sakura looked at him disapprovingly. "How much are they paying you for this job? Fifty bucks?"

"Five thousand," his eye crinkled in happiness. "Enough to buy another set of masks at least."

Sakura ignored that comment but interjected, probably a little more vehemently, "Five thousand bucks is still not worth hauling your stupid ass to Suna. You are _sick_, Kakashi. Why couldn't Shishou have done it anyway?"

"It was just a friendly visit, Sakura-chan," he said meekly. "To consolidate ties between the nations."

"Ties between the nations, my ass," Sakura snarled. "If Gaara sees the state of your nose you will be tied up even before you can to _extend your_ _warmest wishes to the Kazekage_."

"Probably," he nodded. He hasn't noticed that Sakura was dressed in a red blouse and short skirt.

Or that she smelled very nice.

"Ew—get away!" Sakura shouted and pushed him back. "No _way_ am I kissing you in that condition. It's unhygienic and gross and you need a shower."

"Sakura-chan," Kakashi said, "it would seem like you have grown up without a sense of justice."

"And it would seem like you are going to your grave without a proper regard for hygiene! Kissing spreads germs, and I am not going to be the one waking up tomorrow with a nose bigger than my head."

"Hey…" Kakashi shot her a hurt look. "It's fashionable in some countries you know…"

"Only in jail," Sakura declared haughtily. "Where they bash it in because you've stepped on their toes."

At the glance he gave her, Sakura shrugged. "Naruto. And Sasuke-kun. Apparently they were thrown in that one time for 'being a public menace'."

"Eh?" Kakashi blinked.

"Accidentally setting fire to a warehouse. Mistakenly throwing petrol over it thinking it was water. On a _mission_," Sakura emphasised, "idiots."

"I see…"

"Wonder who their sensei is, what a useless man."

"Absolutely terrible…"

"Horrific," she echoed, and took in his appearance. "So, you hungry? I'm stopping by Eboshi's later. You're sick and you need some better food."

"Aw," Kakashi said, and if he had been a lesser man he would have pouted. Or thrown a tantrum. Either ways. "You're not staying?"

"I'll come back later. Shizune is away and there are some forms to be filled."

"Aw," Kakashi said, again, to which Sakura ignored. "Anything you'd like to have? Miso soup? Ramen?"

"Rice and miso would be fine, I think, and maybe a little Takoyaki." Just because he was sick didn't mean he could not indulge. His stomach was still beating with the heart of a samurai.

"Fine then," Sakura got up to stand, then paused and appeared to reconsider herself. She glanced down at him. "You sure you will be okay by yourself?"

"No," Kakashi said, truthfully, "I may die in my sleep."

"Then stay dead," At the look on his face, Sakura rolled her eyes and leaned forward to brush her palm against his forehead. Her touch felt cool and steady. From this angle, he could almost see the eyelashes around her eyes, and sense the steady breathing in her chest. "Your fever will subside once you get a good sleep," she declared, after a while, with a doctor's crisp. "My meds_ always_ work." The cover was folded and tucked over him; warm and comfortable, and probably smelled like her too, because though a man could not detect anything with his olfactory glands, he was allowed to have a vivid imagination.

"Are you sure you're not staying?" he mumbled, staring at her. "I think there is a pain in my chest."

"Go to sleep, you big baby," Sakura patted his covers. Her voice, so close to his ears, was soft and sweet and melodious. His eyelids were already beginning to slide shut. "And get well soon."

Afterwards, as he drifted off, Kakashi could swear that he felt a light tap against his cheek.

* * *

Sakura's face was the first thing he saw when he woke up.

"Fair maiden…" he mumbled. "I may be enarmoured with your pink hair." Then "Ow…" when she rewarded him an eye roll and a light slap across the arm.

"Reciting from Icha would seem you're better now," Sakura sniffed and pressed a hand to his forehead. "Looks like your fever is gone. How are you feeling?"

"Manageable," he replied and pushed himself up to sit. The sky outside had dulled to a dark blue, and the curtains cast long shadows across the room. For a minute Kakashi felt like he had undergone a long, long mission, body sore and tired from the aftermath. What time was it and how long had he slept?

"Evening," Sakura replied. "About six hours since you last woke up. I went to the office just now, did a few check-ups on people. Wouldn't be surprised if Naruto gets down with it too."

"Naruto?"

"Apparently," Sakura coughed. "Ichiraku was the culprit. A couple more people came in to see us earlier on, with the exact same symptoms as you, and Shishou was pissed enough to send out medic investigation. Turns out that Teuchi-jisan and Ayame-san went on some vacation, and left a relative in charge of the place. The guy's an even bigger dirtbag than Naruto. Chopsticks from _last week_ were left around the sink. There was so much grease on them, and the bowls! You should have seen the bowls. Does washing them ever occur to him? I am utterly surprised you didn't come down with something worse."

"I would think this is bad enough," Kakashi remarked dryly, wondering how long she had held in this mini outburst. Looking at Sakura's face up close, however, Kakashi could see the dark circles beneath her eyes and that she appeared far more tired than she'd admit. By instinct, he pressed a hand to his forehead; it felt lukewarm and a little damp.

"Sakura," he began slowly. "How long have you been here?"

"Aha," she dismissed the question with a wave and an embarrassed laugh. "Not too long. A while, I suppose."

"Sakura," he repeated. "How long?"

"Possibly an hour or so—"

"Sakura."

"Okay, fine," she rolled her eyes. "Three hours."

He stared at her. "And what did you do before?"

"At the hospital," she said, "helping Shishou. Doing paperw—fine! Healing people!"

"How many?"

Sakura pursed her lips. "I wouldn't know now, would I? Anyway, it doesn't matter. You need to get better and stop talking—"

"Sakura," he murmured. "It's not funny when you neglect yourself."

On Sakura's blush, Kakashi was immediately seized with a pang of guilt.

"Hey," he said softly, as an apology, and leaned forward to ruffle her hair. "How about I take my meds and you go home?"

Sakura did not sway.

"No," she said. "I am not leaving until I'm certain you are okay."

When posed with a challenge, it seemed like Haruno Sakura held more fibre than the entire Uchiha clan.

And possibly more obstinacy than a mule.

"Sakura," he repeated in a patient voice that did not belie his annoyance. "I am fine now. Really."

"No," she repeated and crossed her arms. "Why are you making a big deal out of this?" It's not like I don't do it everyday—" Then, more abrupt than a mental whiplash, Sakura's eyes shifted and she lowered her arm. A huge grin split her face. "And guess what I bought for dinner?"

There were moments when Kakashi was entirely sure that he could win an argument against Sakura. That if he pressed the point hard enough she would concede, that his male ego did not see fit to cower in a corner like an alley rat.

This, however, was too much.

"Ramen?" His stomach gave a pitiful rumble. "Miso soup?"

"Nope!" Sakura grinned and leapt out of the table. From the table where she had placed her backpack she produced a small sum of item.

"Ta da!" Sakura declared happily. "Be prepared for… Okonomiyaki with _onions!"_

If Kakashi had been a lesser man, he would have gotten down on both knees and offered a blessing to Kami-sam. Do not blame him, my friends, because I'm not sure you would have been able to resist something so shiny and good either.

Right now, the Okonomiyaki was blinking at him with the strength of a true champion.

Kakashi reined in all his powers of self-control and thought: _I'm an elite jounin._

"Ah," he remarked, thoughtfully, "perhaps we should begin."

"You like it?" Sakura ventured.

"Very," his eye crinkled into a happy arc. "Though it's hard to explain how much."

"I am glad," Sakura beamed. "This was actually by recommendation of Tako-san. You know that plump guy at Eboshi's with the goatee and the funny apron? Eboshi Tako—that's him. I was checking out the menu and he said to me, 'Sakura-san, why don't you try the tempura?" And I said, 'No, no it's for Kakashi – he hates tempura and he's _sick_.' And at this moment he whipped out this _framed_ menu – a framed one, Kakashi! I wonder where the guy gets his ideas from, calls it the Special Duple Power-up Menu – and pointed at the first one and I saw: _an Okonomiyaki. _With onions. Oh my God. Of course. That was the answer! It would be perfect for lunch and knowing you, possibly, dinner and supper and midnight-supper and post-midnight-supper. Don't thank me, really. If I were sick and lying in bed half-dead I wouldn't want to be caught eating that crap we had the other day at Naruto's place when he prepared that horrible dish that tasted like—"

"Sakura," he interrupted her babble with a small smile. "Thank you."

A moment passed as they stared at each other.

Then Sakura clapped her hands, fumbled in the carrier and flipped out two pairs of chopsticks. "So—uh," she said, cheeks a little pink, "let's eat?"

The Okonomiyaki was a behemoth. An egg cracked at its centre – yellow, Kakashi decided in a mad fit of poetry, like a sun – enclosed by prawns around it almost equivalent in size. Atop it laid pastoral fields of onions, and oh my God bless the Mother of Nature was that a—was that a squid?

ITADAKIMASU, his inner voice cried.

"Itadakimasu," his outer voice said.

"You don't have to eat it like that you know," Sakura ventured cautiously. "It's not like they are here..."

"Mhm," was all Kakashi could supply. Naruto and Sasuke weren't here, that was for sure and—aha! Ahahahaha! The Okonomiyaki tasted _so good_! Take that, Students of Mine!

"Bleh…" Sakura stared at him for a while, then resigned herself to a bemused grin. She peeled open her own pair of chopsticks, and declared, none-too-happily, "Itadakimasu!"

It was nice, sitting on the bed like that, the both of them, listening to the hum of the overhead fan and feeling the warmth of dinner in their hands. There were many downsides to being sick, of course, but these was one of those times when trivial matters like bailing out and getting paid was shoved to the back of the mind. Kakashi felt right then that he could just close his eyes, and let things go their own way.

Or in this case, the food. Because it went down pretty quickly.

"In case I forget," Sakura jumped out of bed, and bustled to the table, where she unwrapped an object that looked suspiciously like a half-eaten apple.

"This is a get well present from Naruto and Sasuke-kun," she explained, at his look. "I met them both at Eboshi's earlier on. As you see, Naruto ate half of it."

Kakashi stared at her.

"And he wanted me to tell you this—" she cleared her throat and lowered her voice. "_Kakashi-sensei return us our money, you asshole! It's been five months! You better do it the next time we meet or we will kidnap Sakura-chan and sell her to Gaara! _ And Sasuke-kun would like you to know that your hair is _repulsive, and smells like dung_."

"…I see," Kakashi deadpanned. "Their good wishes are noted."

She looked at him sternly. "How much do you owe them?"

"Uh…" Kakashi tapped his chin and tried to recall. "There was a gang of sausage dogs, and there was me being beaten to death…"

"_Jeezus_, you bailed out of the bill again, didn't you?"

"I wouldn't call it that, no…"

"That's just like you, isn't it," Sakura hummed to herself happily. "Though I'd like you to know that Naruto walked out of the store with a bruise in his right eye. I, for one, am not pleased to be mortgaged off to Suna."

"Hm." He didn't think Gaara would be the kind to risk his life, but that was always a distinct possibility.

"So why this mission then?" Now, Sakura was looking at him intently, lips pursed and face tilted in a half-frown, like she had just been thrown a loop and did not know what to do with him. Kakashi knew what it meant when she got like that: she wanted a serious answer.

"How," he said after a while, "could you tell?"

"I know you better than anyone else, Kakashi," Sakura replied with some exasperation. "You're incredibly anal about getting missions done, though never overly enthusiastic. You're lazy, you're a sloth – please don't look at me like that it's _true_ – and the only thing you'd probably like to do is to spend the whole day reading Icha."

"And yet—" Sakura paused and bit her lips, "in the past month, you've barely touched the book. You've been obsessively taking up missions and skipping meals and writing mission reports, and just this morning, almost lost your cool over a mission. If this keeps up, Shishou will probably give you an award for Model Ninja and frame your face on those hills. So," Sakura leaned back and folded her arms. "What is up?"

Kakashi had to hand it to her for her intuition, but… it was still so embarrassing to say it.

"I, uh, need the money."

"For?" Sakura raised an eyebrow.

"Things."

"_Kakashi_," she closed her eyes. "It's Icha isn't it? Jiraiya's written a new volume."

"Not exactly…"

"Then the old issues. They're doing a third edition print. The cover's now in blue. Oh _dear_. Please don't tell me you've spent all your salary on it. You have what, forty-seven copies of the first volume, fifty-three copies of the second, and because the third comes with an autographed poster, _a hundred and sixty-eight_?"

"Uh—"

"Or, let me guess— Jiraiya's bullying you into buying his entire stock. Is he doing that? Because if he is I can always get Shishou to set his ass straight. I swear, Kakashi, for an elite jounin you can be such an utter fanboy. What's so fascinating about the book anyway? It's long-winded and boring and the guy's a total dumbass. I've probably read better sex scenes in—"

"Sakura," he interrupted her. "It's for your birthday."

"What are you— oh. _Oh._" Sakura went pink. Very pink. "You remember."

"Couldn't have stopped Naruto from reminding me ever so often now, could I?" he commented dryly. Now Sakura was scrutinizing him with a very strange and pleased smile on her lips, looking at him as if in a whole new light. The blush did not leave her cheeks.

"Hm," He tapped his chin, feeling suddenly uncomfortable and self-conscious as was always the case when he was with this girl. "Perhaps I could ask for a bigger Okonomiyaki the next time?"

"Oh Kakashi _thank you_," Sakura threw her arms around him. She smelled like Okonomiyaki, but also like flowers, a sweet and homely mix. There was a strange feeling in Kakashi's stomach, not unlike the time when the family down the street, whose cat he had saved, delivered him a basket of apples afterwards. He had been away on a mission then, and when he had returned, discovered the fruits spoiled and inedible. But he had kept the basket, and the note in the basket, feeling a whole lot more enthusiastic about his next few missions.

Only this time, it was a hundred times better.

Kakashi placed his arms around her.

"Mm," Sakura said next to his ear, into his shoulder. He couldn't see her face, but he could feel her breath close to his neck, nice and warm. Beside him the second Okonomiyaki laid untouched and for a minute there, Kakashi felt contented and satisfied, a fullness in his chest brought about by neither the food nor his cold.

"Kakashi," Sakura whispered, after a while. "I think it's time for bed."

* * *

When Kakashi awoke for the last time that night, it was to semi-darkness. Blinking for a few seconds, he adjusted his eyes to the dim light beside his bed stand and wondered where he was, if he had been warped into a new dimensional time zone where people felt really contented all the time.

And then he remembered. Being sick. A terrible headache. Sakura. Med. Sakura and Okonimiyaki. _Sakura._

Where was she? He pushed himself up on both hands and surveyed the room. The bowls and chopsticks have been cleared away, the blankets have been tidied – he could smell it on them – and even the stools have been rearranged. And Kakashi _never_ arranged his chairs. His leg bumped into a dark shape.

"Sakura?" He whispered aloud to the dark.

"Oko – oko," the dark shape giggled. "I want another Okonomiyaki-chan!"

It would seem Sakura had fallen asleep as well.

In any case, Kakashi shifted forward until his knees touched the edge of the bed, and bent over Sakura, who was slouched next to on the bed edge, from the sound of her quiet giggles, probably dreaming.

"Sakura," he said, giving her a gentle shake. "Sakura."

She did not stir.

"Sakura."

Sakura was a light sleeper, often alert to slight changes in the wind even as the boys themselves were weighted heavily in sleep. A cricket sound could startle her, sent her rigid in vigilance. To remain indifferent to his voice must imply how exhausted she was.

"Hey," he murmured next to her ear. "You need to wake up. It's late." At his voice, Sakura twitched momentarily, gave a grunt and opened her eyes. "Mmph—?"

"You fell asleep," he told her. "On the floor. It's midnight now. Have you brushed your teeth?"

"You're—you're annoying," Sakura mumbled and made a half-hearted attempt to swat him. "What time is it?"

"Midnight," he repeated. "I think you're tired. Move onto the bed and I'll take the couch tonight." He smoothed out the top of her head, which was ruffled and mussed from sleep. The bedside lamp provided enough light to see her disheveled hair, bleary eyes and the bit of drool at the corner of her mouth. And that was totally cute.

"Jeez," Sakura groaned but did not shift. "Are you decent down there?"

"Wha--?" Kakashi followed her gaze and looked down. "Well I would surmise my you-know-what is covering my you-know-where…"

"Argh, move aside."

Kakashi moved aside.

Then Sakura paused, seeming to reconsider something, but before Kakashi could ask what's wrong she was already rousing and stirring herself up onto his bed. "Never mind," she said. "I'll live…"

"Wha—?"

"The _blankets_," Sakura's look was severe but sleepy. "Germs all over. I'm totally risking a medic's hygiene to sleep beside you."

The mattress dipped and the pillows were propped up.

Sakura pulled him close.

"… and what's that about a medic's hygiene?"

"_Screw it,_"she said.

The bed was warm and soft when Kakashi slipped onto it. If you had thought that the most contented thing to happen to you while lying in bed sick was to have someone watch over you, tend to your every needs, buy you food and throw away your old masks when they become dirty, then you are wrong. _This_, with the soft hum of the overhead fan and a warm body close, could easily become a new favourite.

"You know," Kakashi propped himself up on an elbow and scrutinized her. "This bed is much too small for the both of us."

Sakura's voice reflected a scowl. "No, it's not."

"My body is almost falling out…"

"I don't care."

"And I don't have the pillow..."

"Use your _hair_!" Sakura snapped. "Now are you going to let me sleep or not? And stroke my head."

Kakashi stroked it.

"Mm," Sakura snuggled to his chest. "I love you."

"Ah."

"You know," Sakura hiccupped sleepily, "sometimes I think this is the part where you say something really romantic to me."

"Ah," he said, again.

"Always bad with words," Sakura wriggled under his arm and smiled up at him. "Never mind though – I get the sentiments. I'm glad you're better now."

And then the heaviness of the whole day stole in and began to pull her eyes shut.

"I'm—" Sakura's eyes were closing. "I'm sleeping with—with my _sensei_."

"You're a true pervert, Sakura-chan," he replied. "Sleep." Lips were pressed to her forehead and hair was tucked behind the ears. _But thank you. _

So it was with one arm draped over the sleeping girl and a lone eye accessing the overhead span spinning on the ceiling that Hatake Kakashi, despite himself and the absolute hopelessness of being a guy, arrived at two conclusions.

One, he never wanted to get a cold again.

Two, the price was well worth the exchange.

* * *

_fini_

_

* * *

_

**A/N:**

This fic may come off as terribly awkward, but I'm not tempted enough to edit it further (as I haven't been tempted for the past 1 year and 7 months.) Reviews would make me very happy; longer reviews more so. If you have nothing to say, at least tell me your favourite line(s)!


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